


a thousand words

by ostentatiouslyrealistic



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Friendship, Happy Ending, M/M, Psychological Trauma, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-20
Updated: 2018-10-20
Packaged: 2019-08-03 21:04:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16333451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ostentatiouslyrealistic/pseuds/ostentatiouslyrealistic
Summary: A tree falls in the middle of the forest. Does anyone hear it?A paladin cries in the middle of the night, whimpering broken cries that barely escape his throat. Does anyone hear it?





	a thousand words

**Author's Note:**

> “After all, when a stone is dropped into a pond, the water continues quivering even after the stone has sunk to the bottom.” ― Arthur Golden

He doesn't speak. Not anymore.

And Keith misses it. His boisterous laughter. The jokes cracked under stressful circumstances. Even the obnoxious flirting. But now, silence is all that's left, a remnant of difficult times.

Lance sits at the deck, still clad in his pajamas, eyes trained on the unfamiliar constellations that float by the ship, and his hands sit on his lap, unmoving, unresponsive. And Keith can't take it.

He plops down next to him, giving him a weary smile. The other boy doesn't move, doesn't even flinch, and Keith resists the urge to grab at his hair and scream. The only sounds surrounding them are the faint roar of the castle rockets and the blood that roars through his veins. It's overwhelming—it's awful.

He takes in his appearance. Bags that weren't there before hang prominently on his face, and his cheekbones jut out a little too much for Keith's comfort. His skin is pallid, no longer housing that golden glow that shone through fierce smiles, and his hair hangs limply, desperately in need of a haircut. If someone were to ask Keith to sum up Lance's appearance, he'd simply either flip them off or throw a punch, but it wouldn't stop the word 'haggard' from running through his mind.

He says his name, the word rolling off his tongue and ending in a small hiss. No response, not that he was expecting one, but he has high hopes. The only movements that comes from the other is the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest and the gentle flutter of his eyelashes as he takes in his surroundings, the only signs of life that keeps that small ember of hope burning.

There's not much he can do to prompt a response from the other boy, so he just sits with him. The both of them gaze into the vastness that expands outward—seemingly endless but dotted with so many, _so many_ stars. Some glow a fierce red. Others glint a pure white. But Keith's favorites are the ones that shimmer a brilliant blue.

Almost painful to look at, they shine the brightest, blindingly beautiful, and Keith feels a multitude of contrasting emotions: awe, sadness, wonder, melancholy. For they gleam so beautifully, yet burn out the fastest. To the average human eye, it may seem like nothing, but relative to the other beaming giants, they snuff out easily with the snap of a finger.

But they also remind Keith of something else—something so trivial yet causes a flurry of storms in the deepest pit of his stomach. Their twinkling hues of blue serve to remind him of the whirlwind of emotion that used to swirl in the depths of the eyes of the boy situated next to him.

Now dimmed and void, he feels the urge to fill them with something— _anything_. He would take petty rivalry or obnoxious ramblings over the vine of silence that wraps itself around their necks, suffocating them all.

They linger in silence, Keith opening his mouth, only to snap his jaw closed when nothing passes through. Lance doesn't move, isn't aware of the emotional turmoil raging in the boy next to him.

Soon, Keith is pulled out of this losing battle by a firm hand on his shoulder. He turns to see Hunk, who gives him a warm smile and tells him that he should go to bed. Then he gently bends down to say a few words to Lance, who doesn't respond, but allows the gentle giant to lead him to bed.

The lack of response is stifling.

It's maddening.

 

\--

 

It was a mission that'd gone wrong. Voltron had been forcefully separated, and the fleet of Galra ships was overwhelming. There were too many, and they seemed to come from all directions, an endless convergence of enemy fire.

Shiro had tried to keep everyone calm, a difficult feat when all anyone could hear through the coms was panicked yelling and frantic overlapping words. It had all accumulated into a giant, shared migraine that sent them into a flurry.

There was too much happening. Too many lights flashing. Too many exploding ships to count. Too many targets to aim for. Too much.

Too much.

Too much.

By the time Allura had ordered them to return to the hangar, the damage was horrendous. And it took them a few moments to notice that the blue paladin had disappeared.

 

\--

 

It was Haggar.

Everyone knew that though Zarkon had been defeated, his witch had survived and was now in charge of whatever remained of the empre. They'd underestimated her power, and in turn, Lance had been captured.

A foolish mistake.

A deadly mistake.

It had left a bitter taste in Keith's mouth that, when swallowed, left a pool of remorse and guilt that burned like acid. No one blamed him. He knew this, and yet he couldn't stop the self hatred from consuming him, pulling him deeper within himself until Pidge had snapped him out of it.

Literally. Figuratively.

A sharp pain in the form of a palm colliding against his cheek had awoken him from the void, and Pidge had yelled at them all to focus—there was still hope. The lions had been in a state of distress at the capture of one of their own, but there had been no overwhelming sadness, no indication that they should give up faith. In fact, Red had mentally nudged him away from falling into that deep pit again and prodded at him to listen to the green paladin, who came up with a rough plan.

It was risky, but she was absolutely certain that they could get him back.

 

\--

 

When Keith had slammed his hand onto the panel, the door had slid open, and he peeked in. It had taken a good moment to adjust his eyes to the darkness, but when they did, he felt as if his heart had taken a steep drop.

It was Lance.

But—

His eyes were squeezed shut, fists gripping onto his hair for deep life as he curled into himself. The sounds of battle faded away until all he could hear was whimpering. Whether it was fear or pain, Keith didn't know.

He moved forward slowly, not wanting to startle him, and transformed his bayard back into its original form as to not scare him. Murmuring his name, he crouched down next to him and slowly put a hand on his shoulder.

As soon as there was just the barest hint of contact, Lance screamed. A bloodcurdling scream that had Keith shooting backwards with shock and fear. After a moment, he surged forward, shouting his name, grappling for his arms, but Lance just kept screaming, kept trying to run, and Keith was left with dwindling patience and growing fear.

Diving forward, he'd grabbed Lance around the middle and hoisted him onto his shoulder, struggling as Lance did everything he could to get away. He desperately tried to hold on as his fellow paladin's limbs flailed, landing blow upon blow onto his stomach and his back.

Gritting his teeth, he informed Shiro that he had Lance and received a prompt command to return to his lion and retreat back to the castle. Shoving Lance into Red was no easy feat, and he piloted back to the castle, the panic rising like a tide in his chest. The fact that he had to shout over Lance's frantic cries to tell the team that something was horribly wrong only made things worse.

When he finally touched down, Hunk and Shiro rushed in, grabbing Lance by the arms, and they pulled him away towards the direction of the healing pods, the muffled cries fading as they disappeared from sight.

 

\--

_Psychological trauma._

That was what Hunk had said after Coran and Pidge made sense of Lance's odd brainwaves. The torture Haggar must have put him through must have been pinpointed at his mind because no one found any signs of physical trauma. And when Lance was finally released from the pod, he stumbled forward and flinched as both Keith and Hunk gently steadied him.

Then, nothing.

Whether he had emotionally retreated or had just become an empty shell, no one knew.

Keith sighs, a whisper of a sound, and it echoes through the corridor as a wistful breath. The idea of seeing Lance stirs up a mixture of silted grief and faltered hope that permeates his every exhale. With every day that passes by, his hope flickers, and all he can do is cup his hands around that flame and continue to feed it faith.

He leans against the door, head pressed against his forearms, and mentally debates with himself for a good moment. Impulse overrules caution, and he knocks lightly, caught off guard when the door slides open automatically.

Lance is in bed, lying sideways with the covers wrapped loosely around him, head pillowed on his arm as he faces the away. Blue eyes stare blindly at the bland grey paint peeling off the walls. His hair is damp, a few tufts withholding water drops that ache to break free.

Keith lets out a small huff, dragging the chair from the desk to situate himself next to the blue paladin, and the noise as it scrapes across the ground is deafening. There's not much to say; he's never been the most social, often preferring to communicate through actions. Normally, he lets Lance or Allura do all the talking, but now—now he's left in a cavity of suffocation.

Slowly, as to not startle him, Keith reaches out and puts a hand on Lance's shoulder, feeling the soft cotton of his pajamas rub against his palms. Lance doesn't react, and Keith wills himself not to lash out—to stay put and be the rock that his fellow paladins have been for him. He shuts his eyes, mentally exhausted, and lets out a slow, quivering breath.

Then he pulls away, letting his back collide with the chair, as he watches his friend. Watches the rise and fall of his chest. Watches the silence wrap itself around the two of them in a binding straightjacket.

Watches because that's all he can do.

 

\--

 

It's a routine.

Keith comes to visit—to keep Lance company as the latter shrinks into himself. Sometimes one of the other paladins comes with him, and he lets them talk.

Hunk rambles about his cooking, complaining that Coran has managed, once again, to make a mess in the kitchen. He grumbles over wiping off whatever concoction Coran's somehow managed to splatter on the wall and perks up when he begins to tell them both about his new recipes and how they're coming close to tasting like earth food.

Pidge updates them on her latest projects, about how she tinkers with spare parts and is planning on building another Rover, though her tone becomes somber at the memory of her robotic friend. She tells them about her lessons in learning Altean and sometimes breaks out a few phrases that has Keith impressed with her progress.

Shiro comes bearing words of warm support and encouragement, and after that, he talks about their progress and successes regarding their diplomacy missions. But, like Keith, he runs out of things to talk about, and they lapse into silence.

But still, Lance doesn't stir.

 

\--

 

Silence paints a thousand words.

Silence tells the entirety of a story.

Silence is tranquility.

Silence is fulfillment.

 

\--

 

Silence is bullshit.

 

\--

 

It happens one night.

Lance is laying on his back, eyes hooded as he gazes at the ceiling. Keith sits beside him, head cushioned on his folded arms as he rests on the edge of the blue paladin's bed. It's been a long day of training, and Keith is exhausted.

He groans, stretching out an arm and feels his hand brush against Lance's arm, and he moves downward, fingers brushing his knuckles. A sigh escapes his lips as the movement strains his sore muscles, and he sits up, ready to take a hot shower and head off to bed.

Lance's eyes are closed, and Keith feels that grief well up in his chest. He breathes out a shuddering sigh, hands fisting the sheets and teeth clenching. Squeezing his eyes shut, he swallows down the lump of frustration that's been slowly manifesting at the base of his throat.

Something soft brushes against his fingers, a tickling sensation following the gentle touch, and his eyes snap open with shock. Lance hasn't moved from his position, but his hand has changed its position so that the tip of his index finger is now grazing against Keith's skin. Something akin to wonder and amazement start to bubble up, quickly overwhelming him, and his vision blurs.

With a blink, his sight returns to normal, though hot trails make their way down his face, sloping at his cheeks and falling in arrhythmic patterns. He's crying, too overwhelmed with any other emotion to do anything else.

So he just sits with Lance and cries until the hand falls away, and the blue paladin falls asleep.

 

\--

 

It starts to go uphill from there.

Little movements from the once unresponsive boy bring joy to the rest of the paladins. Hunk had burst into tears when Keith relayed what had happened that night, and Pidge tackled Hunk in a tight hug, each holding onto the other for dear life. Shiro had breathed a sigh of relief, all the tension leaving his shoulders, and he suddenly looked five years younger. In a fit of happiness, Coran had offered to whip up a grand dinner, of which was turned down by Hunk, who said he'd take care of the food. And Allura had excused herself, but the sheen in her eyes betrayed her happiness.

Now they all lounge in the kitchen, Keith leaning against the counter with arms crossed. Lance is perched on one of the counters opposite him. He opens his mouth to take in the spoon of space goo that Hunk prods at him, and Pidge sits next to him, rambling about her unfinished Rover, holding it up so that Lance can see. To their surprise, his eyes flicker over to the mess of metal and wires, and they crinkle just a bit with a quirk of his lips. Everyone freezes.

The spoon falls from Hunk's hands as he lunges at Lance, bowl clattering to the ground and goo splattering against the hem of Keith's pants, who scowls on reflex. But when he looks up, he feels his expression soften as Hunk openly sobs into Lance's shirt, fat tears rolling down his face as he blubbers about how happy he is. Pidge is beaming wider than she has for the past few weeks, a toothy smile that immediately brightens the room.

She turns toward Keith, who's already grinning at the scene before him. There's a bubbling sensation in his chest, and it's the closest he's come to bursting with happiness.

Shiro comes in to find a mess of goo, tears, and happiness.

 

\--

 

Gradually, Lance starts to, as coined by Hunk, awaken.

He starts to open up, soul peeking out from behind the curtain he had so nearly hid himself for the past few months. His eyes become more expressive, wrinkling around the edges in joy or narrowing at Coran's attempt at food with disgust and amusement. There's still trouble whenever it comes to expressing his emotions with the rest of his face, and Keith finds that sometimes, Lance struggles to smile.

Struggles to lift the corner of his lips and show off the blinding grin he used to flash, whether it be in moments of tranquility or moments of intense battle as he tried to lift their spirits. He also has trouble with words.

Sometimes, Keith suspects that Lance is trying to vocalize a thought. Instead of a word escaping his throat, all he utters is a small noise followed by a sigh of defeat.

But that's fine. A small sound is louder than all the silence in the world.

 

\--

 

At one point, there's a blast that comes from Pidge's lab, one so loud that it rocks the ship with slight tremors. Keith runs in to find her covered in soot and shame as she tries to clean her glasses off with no avail on her stained shirt. She throws her small audience a sheepish smile and offers to clean.

Coran sighs and offers to grab her a bucket of water and a mop. Allura quirks a brow. And Shiro just shakes his head with a hand covering his eyes.

Later, the castle is disturbed by another cry. One so loud and despondent that Keith is the first to appear, bayard in hand and hair frazzled from being woken from his nap. It originates from Lance's room, and his blood goes cold, circulating his veins like ice in a frozen river.

He runs forward, misses the panel, and skids to a stop, slamming a hand for entry. When he enters, he forms his sword, ready to leap into action. Instead, with wide eyes, he sees Hunk cradling his face in his palms, guttural cries emitting from his chest. He heaves another sob, shoulders shaking with intensity.

Keith moves forward slowly, heart sinking into the acidity of his stomach.

Lance has retreated again, eyes devoid of sight as he stares at the peeling paint. The blanket is tucked around him, ensuring his warmth, but when Keith touches his fingers, all he feels is an emulation of death.

 

\--

 

A tree falls in the middle of the forest. Does anyone hear it?

A paladin cries in the middle of the night, whimpering broken cries that barely escape his throat. Does anyone hear it?

 

\--

 

From then on, Pidge is barred from any 'explosive' experiments. Her eyes spit fire and sarcasm until she hears about how her mistake affected Lance. At that, the fire snuffs out and leaves embers of guilt smoldering in her chest.

Hunk takes extra care of Lance, making sure he eats three meals a day and getting his exercise by leading him around the castle. Sometimes, they pass by the training room, and Keith can see Hunk talking animatedly, using his free hand to gesture with flourishes and waves as he tells Lance another story.

When Hunk chances a look into the training room and meets Keith's gaze, the latter is surprised by the passionate emotions that linger within: anguish, agony, somberness.

Hope.

 

\--

 

Not that Keith is counting, but it's another week before Lance shows any sign of recovery. It starts with his hands, small movements of his fingers as he taps on Keith to gain his attention. Or towards Hunk, where he lightly prods his friend whenever he wants to point something out.

The first time it happens, Keith starts, twisting his head so fast that his neck cricks, and he has to bite on his tongue to muffle the curses that threaten to bombard the atmosphere. When he recovers, he narrows his eyes in discomfort and turns to Lance, who weakly points at the door.

He wants to take a stroll.

And so that's what they do.

 

\--

 

His expression starts to brighten. Not as luminous as he used to be. It's more like a small halo that surrounds his being, gentle and timid.

But it's still the brightest thing Keith has ever seen in a long time.

 

\--

 

They're all sitting at the observation deck, all surrounded by the iron cores that spin by the ship. Lance, in particular, is riveted by the display. The stars reflect a galaxy within his eyes, a never ending sea of light.

Pidge is seated in front of him, legs crossed as she draws mindless figures on his supinated palm. Hunk is seated to his left, humming a soft tune and occasionally mumbling a few lyrics. And Keith sits to his right, elbows sitting on his knees and fists supporting his chin.

There's a tranquility they haven't experienced in a while, a wave of calm that strokes the shore with light taps and drags. The only things that fill the air are Hunk's quiet humming and their collective breathing. All different, yet an attunement to their lives.

Keith notices first in his peripheral. The gesture is so small, so obscure, he nearly misses it. When he fully turns, he's surprised at how Lance has his lips slightly parted. As he turns, his movement draws Hunk's attention, and he stops humming. The lack of song has Pidge looking up at them all with curious eyes, stars reflecting off the sheen of her glasses.

Lance, uncomfortable, shrinks back a bit, but there's still a quiet determination in his features. Keith cocks his head in question, and Hunk sends Lance an encouraging smile. Pidge has stopped tracing on his hand.

It's nearly inaudible. So quiet, that the trio can hardly believe what they hear. But it's there, and  it's enough to startle them all, then bring incredible smiles beaming across their faces.

"Thank you."

Two words.

That's it.

But it's a start.

And for now, it's enough.  

**Author's Note:**

> I started this last year (fall 2017), and I've just remembered about it now. It's meant to be a prose piece about trauma and silence (but I gather that you got that now that you're at the end). Lance's dialogue is the only piece, and it's meant to weigh the heaviest. 
> 
> If you liked it, drop by my [tumblr](http://www.quiznaksicles.tumblr.com) to give a shout.


End file.
